Best Poplar Tree Poems
After many cold winters, they met again,
Under the poplar tree on a starry moonlit night.
Though they had planned it over many a time,
It came to fruition after such long lapse of years.
Once they loved as no lovers could ever
In devotion, never had they faltered, never once failed,
But fate was sadly against this star-crossed pair,
And the young lovers had to part ways in pain.
Once again, the old classmates congregated,
Precisely at the same campus under the same tree
Though years have wrinkled its aged bark,
Still, it bears the indelible mark of a heart pierced by an arrow
To its cover they have been drawn once more
Not to renew their bond or weave fresh dreams,
But just to see and feel once and never more,
For a fleeting second to be in love’s prison bound.
An eloquent silence lingered deep.
The celestial bodies stood in breathless anticipation.
From the sepulchered past, dead worlds awoke.
They knew, separation had only accentuated their love.
Alas! Nothing could their severed lives entwine
Neither a kiss nor an embrace, the shattered years combine
Yet once more they put their arms around.
And for the last time they looked at each other.
Perhaps, they meant this as their last gesture of love,
Hoping its memory would fuel them when weary,
With eyes blurred and moistened with tears,
And billows of emotion rising sky high.
Fearing they would lose their composure,
Abruptly they turned their wan faces away.
Without another word of goodbye,
They walked away into the stillness of the night!
Categories:
poplar tree, desire, longing, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
The audio version of the Poem can also be heard on my You Tube
Channel 'RavindraKK1' or by using the below given URL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apYEemRpNRA
While I was standing near My Autumn tree
The Sun was fading, with all its grandeur and beauty,
Somewhere far, very far away amid the Poplar trees.
I was in a state of enchanted stillness,
Beholding the gold which was showering on me,
With every gush of wind coming from the east.
The earth was wrapped in a lovely darkness,
Slowly the Sun rays slipped away from the hands of the evening, but
It embraced the night in her arms perhaps to console its forlorn heart.
I was glued with the fragrance of Autumn, while the Sun was still fading slowly,
Leaving only a yellow and radish glow in the sky.
The golden leaves of Poplar were still falling on me,
Coming to me while flying from the Poplar tree.
Suddenly the birds said adieu to me, reminding me once again the passing of time,
While I was standing near my Autumn tree.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 4th Sept. 2011
Poem submitted in honor of Brian Strand's contest
SEPTEMBER-YOUR CHOICE
Categories:
poplar tree, nature, time, autumn, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
Alone I'm standing; a tall poplar tree
With many of my kind alongside me
All standing here in solidarity
Together as one when we need to be.
There are times when we need to be alone
To enjoy the deep bliss of solitude
For any wrongdoings we must atone
Pay your debts to others; peace is assured.
Be like that tall tree as you live your life
By helping others to nurture and grow
And protect all the young from earthly strife
From within your heart you can make it so.
So stand tall and proud majestically
Being part of the forest when needs be.
Written on 17th September 2020.
Categories:
poplar tree, life, nature, tree,
Form:
Sonnet
Freshly ground coffee dripping into the carafe.
The heavenly odor permeating the air.
Bright yellow explosion of sunrise climbing out of the distant sea.
Morning is the best part of the day.
Morning, still cool and fresh as I walk barefoot onto the deck.
Steam rising from my coffee mug as I curl into the deck chair.
The smell of heather from the window box mixing with the coffee aroma.
Morning is the best part of the day.
The doe and her fawns stepping out of the woods,
Watching me as I watch them.
After assessing me they cross the lawn
To nibble leaves from the trees.
Staying in the shade offered by the poplar tree
They pretend to ignore me as they dine.
I pretend to ignore them as I sit and read.
Morning is surely the best part of the day.
Categories:
poplar tree, lifeme, me, morning,
Form:
Free verse
as the wind blows south
the poplar tree saps black blood
soaked are roots with pride
Categories:
poplar tree, africa, courage, dark, death,
Form:
Haiku
I dream this everlasting dream
Where I am her and she is she
We're so much younger than we seem
Completely alive in the audience of we
She is the senior captain of the soccer team
I'm just a little nerd who wonders what she sees
She makes me feel like I'm living in a dream
We share forbidden kisses in a poplar tree
We hide away inside ourselves every day at school
We steal our hearts in the halls with every coded glance
They would all make fun of us, the sinner and the fool
But we would be untouchable, cause we'd know how to dance
I would let her lead, be my homecoming queen
I would be her trophy for all her friends to see
She would be my guiding light, and I would be her heart
She would lift me up and together we'd be free
But this is just a dream that will never really be
I am just a girl who never had her teenage dream
This is not my memory, just wanted you to see
What I think of every night as I drift off to sleep
Categories:
poplar tree, absence, depression, desire, longing,
Form:
Lyric
SUMMER MUSIC
a morning bird
singing in a poplar tree
comments endlessly
her happy chatter
riding a warm southern breeze
has no winter in it
prelude to rapture
spring’s brief recitative
then sweet summer music
Dve Austin
Categories:
poplar tree, summer,
Form:
Haiku
Tall and magnificent is poplar tree
But about its visage is something eerie
Poplar sways in the wind nearby a great sea
Poplar is tall but can’t reach the edge of sky anymore than to see
Past the great sea
Sea
It is very big sky goes for infinity
Yet in this lost cause I admire poplars beauty
Wind blows through poplar tree
And that is what one day will allow it to see
Far past the sky and the sea
To view time but not one known to you and me
The time seen by poplar tree
Is echo that only divine counterbalance can allow one to see
This time is like the wind of destiny
Far past infinity or continuity
That wind knows what meaning of life is to be
And any other question of philosophy
It can answer what is beyond philosophy
And because of it my soul looking at poplar tree will be free
Categories:
poplar tree, fantasy, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
When wind blows through poplar tree
One can sense time in all its majesty
In all its glory
But also perhaps in all its possibility
Something evolving in bubble of no existence
With evolution not needing reference point in its existence
Could life form created in this form of existence
See end of time in all its existence
They say man fears time
And pyramids are the only thing feared by time
But are they really feared by time
After all is there really such thing as time
Time could be parallel to our vision of it
Every consciousness somewhere in time will fit
If one could see infinity or continuity past or future would it be it
Would this be beginning or end of time maybe but not as this person sees it
They would see
Next infinity
Next continuity
Next possibility
Pyramid its builders did not consider a tomb
More likely to them it was a womb
For soul it was a womb
Place where the spirit would bloom
How would this spirit see time?
Question hard to answer with a simple rhyme
Would it be something sublime?
Or emptiness lost to passage of that very time
Would this spirits destiny
To write the very laws of universe how they them see
That is what Egyptian beliefs would be
And those laws did not have to be based on previous ones probably
And if one of those laws would protein to time
What they could do would indeed be sublime
But would they answer philosophical questions even in time
Like meaning of life philosophies question so basic and prime
Speaking of philosophy
Intelligence no matter how high has its own philosophy
Everyone has some form of it even if each is different philosophy
So is there anything beyond philosophy
What magic would be required to go beyond philosophy?
If question of meaning of life is base of philosophy
But magic that is mathematical nirvana beyond philosophy
Would be powerful and this is the one spirit in my pyramid would see
This is the only way to set the spirit free
That is what my opinion would be
Not just to be able to write universes laws but see
Beyond any philosophy
That is what heaven would be
That is what Great Eye might see
From the pyramid spirit would be free
And united with soul of souls would be its destiny
Categories:
poplar tree, philosophy, time, universe,
Form:
Rhyme
III
Once a pilgrim bound for a distant land
Was standing at the parting of three ways,
He asked a crone which, the right hand,
The left or middle way led before day’s
End to the hospice lying in the vale.
“The middle path,” said she,” yon poplar tree
Marks its entrance.” Along that trail
He walked with haste, while yet was time to see.
Scarce a brook was crossed than darkness fell
And blotted out the red dusk’s ember glow.
He heard aghast a tolling distant bell,
Moved not by hand, but as the wind did blow.
O'er dry sticks his wandering feet did tread
And he did feel dead leaves caress his head.
II
At forty a man is like a pyramid.
His four decades have lent him some solidity.
Both east and west he faces with facility,
Being neither young nor old. Married,
With children, a house and the ability
To be squarely based on terra firma
And convinced his life is – despite that murmur
About taxes, the crime rate, and the mess
Government or unions have us in – not pointless.
He’s proud for seeing things from every side,
By summer's heat, by winter's cold, well-tried.
He builds in blocks of hard square stone,
And moon by moon pays back his mortgage loan,
Freeholding Pharaoh, immobile with lands tied.
I
Babe new-born, aspersed in blood and water,
Eyes dazzled by the first light ever seen.
From one a half, and from a half a quarter,
Division cuts with scalpel fine and keen.
One breath, the hour-glass is upended,
The first pure grains pass through its orifice.
Time, you Saturn! What art e'er mended
Ills sown within the bed of life? A kiss,
A mother’s joy escapes the roll-scribe’s glare.
His eyes peer through his glasses crystal-clear,
Who takes each entry down and makes his figures square.
Who renders tribute in the coin of fear?
Or shall the hand that once has turned the glass
Not turn again when sands have ceased to pass?
Categories:
poplar tree, birth, death, life,
Form:
Sonnet
Wind blows through dandelion clock as far as eye can see
The wind also blows through poplar tree
Wind symbolizes change and destiny
And passage of time in all its majesty
When one feels summer breeze one wonders about meaning of life
And perhaps in the time of fall the afterlife
As opposition it can represent strife
Yet he is the groom and spring is his wife
That which makes wind interesting even sublime
Is that it reflects ultimate lord of all forms of time
Even the philosophical and supernatural glory that beyond time can climb
And the nature of nonlinear growth of that God is also beyond time
Categories:
poplar tree, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
in july, yellow
leaves upon the poplar tree...
lawn sprinkled with gold
Categories:
poplar tree, environment,
Form:
Haiku
The smell of led was in the air
In the quiet forest bullet that silence would dispel
That bullet young partisans’ heart would tear
And the boy like stone would fell
All was left was a shallow grave
And small cross given to the one who was brave
Above the grave tall poplar would sway like an ocean wave
The salute was not given because guerrillas their bullets had to save
The destiny has many turns
There are many earthly concerns
But in subtle leaves of poplar tree wind makes sound like heart that for lover yearns
Only it can respond to other sides’ concerns as well as soul’s current sojourns
Wind is beyond time but blood is like wine
No matter if blood is spilled by men or force of divine
Is the wind reflection of the force angelically sublime?
Or maybe soul has its own poplar its own wind and its own one having no reference to ours’ time
Categories:
poplar tree, war, heart, heart,
Form:
Couplet
"The evidence of yesterday,
Is what we disallow,
The future is a better way,
To live our lives right now."
------------------------------
A poor, wayfaring man of grief,
Hath passed me on my way,
And though I stood in disbelief,
He stood in disarray.
I felt some need to comfort him,
To share his heavy load,
And yet, my fate was also grim,
And mutual, our road.
I thought about a future day,
When all the world is kind,
And love is not a word to say,
But more, a peaceful mind.
I followed him, to find our place,
Beneath a Poplar tree,
But when I gazed upon his face,
I saw the man was me.
I did not speak a kindly word,
Or treat him very nice,
Because my shame was still preferred,
To giving him advice.
I thought about a quick retreat,
To expedite my way,
I would not hear of his defeat,
In words of yesterday.
But when he turned to look at me,
I knew that it was so,
The young man that I used to be,
Was someone I should know.
I knew that he was all alone,
A victim of my past,
But when he found my comfort zone,
We stood and wept at last.
I knew that he was sad and low,
A desperate place to be,
And yet, he had the strength to show,
How much he cared for me.
Because he fought for my relief,
He set my spirit free,
A poor, wayfaring man of grief,
Is rich enough for me.
Categories:
poplar tree, appreciation, destiny, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
The brush which paints the sky each day
Has also drawn the distant hills
Where many flowers bloom in May
And nature offers verdant thrills.
A playful child once sought the shade
Of an old oak and poplar tree;
He’s the same man who craves the glade
Once his mundane ambitions flee.
He walked through life while chasing dreams
Which all belonged to other men.
Now that his time has passed, he seems
Inclined to be a child again.
He often walks in his old age
And stops for rest upon the bench
Where, once, his dreams were set to stage
And leafy shade his troubles quenched.
His hurried years have passed away
And the old trees are all that’s left.
He weeps and wants another May
When a small child in their shade slept.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
poplar tree, childhood, dream, time, tree,
Form:
Rhyme